{1st january 2013; new year's day}
dear jen,
i've always had something of a love-hate affair with january. some years i wake up with fresh resolutions and ready to try something new and make more of the new year than i did of the old one - you know, all the stuff you read in those self-help books. other years, i wake up and turn over so i'm lying flat on my back, then i just wish for the year that's passed my by.
i'm on a moving vehicle, by the way. just in case you're wondering why my writing looks like a four year-old's.
i've put my near-empty can of diet coke on the edge of the arm of my seat, which probably isn't the best idea, but since when have i had good ideas?
january's the month of my birthday, maybe i should have mentioned that. liz got hit by the car two days before i turned sixteen. my parents just ended up leaving my presents at the foot of my bed and not mentioning it. liz's mum gave me the present her daughter was going to. it was even wrapped, jen, in paper decorated with polka dots.
i didn't open it. it's under my bed and it's still wrapped and the card is still there, still in its envelope because i didn't read it.
maybe i'll open it this year. seventeen's the big number, right? in harry potter it is, anyway.
i'm on the subway. i haven't mastered the art of writing steadily on something that's moving yet. i've just realised that i've already said that in this letter, albeit not in as many words. sorry.
remember when i told you if you read these you'd want me to go see someone? i find that funny, somehow (it's not really). i've been seeing someone for quite a bit now, and while he's a good someone to see, i don't really think he's made much of a difference.
funny, isn't it?
not really.
